Hopes of a better future
by Coneofwonders
Summary: During the flood attack on high charity, an old prophet tries to keep himself alive and hidden from the parasite. In his darkest hour, will he die without hope, or will he be able to witness it one last time? (Written at two in the morning. Enjoy)


The wise old prophet had already locked the doors to his room, praying the gods above that it would be enough to hold the monsters outside as they sounded their hideous pained roars before banging furiously on the metal door, determined to get in. To get to him. Whether they would breach the door, he did not know. At the very least he had some time to enjoy whatever moments remained of his life.

The prophet's room had a large window opposite the door, taking up almost the entire wall. He took a look outside to view the great holy city, high charity that he was living on. Being ten stories above it city grounds, it was easy enough to see the city in all its ,soon to be, former glory. From the other buildings surrounding his own, to the more respected prophets quarters, and even to the human ship half buried in one of the main pillars above.

He had expected it to be a human attack. A desperate one at that. Their race was nearing the brink of extinction after all. He could remember standing just outside the building he lived in minutes ago as he witnessed the frigate crash. The brute honor guards, recently assigned to protect the prophet, growled and mumbled amongst themselves, somewhat mocking this so called invasion. For a moment, the elderly prophet felt the same way until shortly after, the barely noticable human dropships, pelicans he believed they were called, heading their way. Very few, four at the most.

"Have the humans gone insane"? Questioned the prophet in his own mind as the ships came ever more closer. What seemed odd though was the way the ships seemed... unable to fly straight. They wobbled as they sped at great speed. He even could have sworn that one of the ships were malfunctioning as smoke bellowed from its engines.

The ships came ever so closer.

One seemingly seemed to fall out of the sky and crashed near the center of the city, not too far away from his location or where the Forerunner Dreadnought rested.

They came closer.

He could barely hear the sound of screams, from where the ship had crashed. From grunts and jackals no doubt. Cowardly lot. It takes little to frighten them off it seems.

And closer...

What was falling from the back of the ships? Where the humans jumping out of them?

And closer...

The brute honor guards snarled in confusion. Some sort of green smoke oozed from the back of the ship.

And closer...

Finally, one ship was only a very short distance from his general area, though it didn't show any signs of slowing down. Instead, it did a nose dive, heading straight into the ground, crashing hard. The impact was enough for the bird's right wing to break off while the other's engine went up in flames, skidding thirty feet or so before coming to a direct halt.

For a short while, silence strecthed over the street until the elder prophet ordered all four of his honor guards to deal with the humans. And so the savage creatures obeyed, gripping their spears and rushing over to the dropship that lay several dozen meters away from where the prophet stood. The dropship's front faced him, makng it impossible to see the pelicans main exit at the back, nor the brutes he had just sent over as they made their way to the back.

He could quickly hear the brutes. They sounded as though they were trying to force the metal doors of the ship open. They must have become jammed due to the crash. The cockpit was completely black too, making it near impossible to see the pilot of the dropship. No matter, he wouldn't have to wait long for the human's screams after the brutes have their way with them.

Although, he did hear a scream, it was not one he had expected.

HUUURRRRAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH

A long, horrifying screech sounded the second the prophet heard the metal doors forced open. Nothing like he had ever heard. It quickly followed by the sounds of his honor guards shouting in surprise. One he saw fall backwards, fully in the prophet's sight, save for his feet which remained hidden by the bulky ship. Whatever covenant forces could see from behind the ship seemed frightened. Some even ran as the remaining soldiers fired into the cockpit. The brute that had fallen over tried to unclip his weapon. However before he could, the prophet could see a hand grab ahold of the warrior's ankle before dragging him back out of sight behind the ship. Before long, a large spray of purple liquid coated the area where the brute once laid.

The now nervous prophet slowly stepped back towards his building, keeping an eye on the dropship, trying hard to witness this new enemy. He quickly got his wish.

At first he thought it was one of his own guards, due to the crimson armor it wore. But the figure had an... unnatural pose. Covered by the shadow of the ship, the "guard" stumbled forwards, towards the prophet. Only when it stepped into the light did the prophet see the thing for what it really was. Enough to nearly make the elder prophet fall over backwards by sight alone, the figure indeed was a brute. "Was" being the key word. Now it had been replaced by a horrifying, twisted version of itself that made it nearly unrecognisable. It wasn't long before more like it lumbered out from behind the ship. Most shots being fired at the creatures from those daring to fight did nothing other than blow off a couple of limbs as the most. Very few falling to the insane firepower used against them. The prophet could now only run back into his home as the unknown beast followed.

Now he was trapped in his own room, in his own building, high above. It was a miracle that he had made it this far. Although, it was most likely the other residents from inside the building, having no idea what had been going on from outside, that had distracted the abominations for a short while. The prophet wouldn't have been surprised if he was now the only survivor in the building. Though, with the continued banging from the outside, that idea would not last much longer.

Now he just stood at the edge near the window, looking outside seeing more and more human dropships, or whatever now owned them, crash. Spreading the foul sickness they carried aboard them.

The speakers would sound every now and then, allowing the whole city to hear its message. Most of the time, belonging to the prophet truth. The rest of the time... something else. It was a low, deep, echoing voice which would constantly sound, letting the city know it was doomed. No doubt this foe was with... whatever was killing his guards, killing the covenant, killing the whole of high charity. Like the civil war against the elites had not proved stressful enough. Not that any of it mattered anymore. Even if his door held, how long would he last? A couple of days if he was lucky enough.

The banging from outside multiplied and became ever more louder, as did the roaring. They really wanted in. The metal was beginning to dent inwards too. Never mind days, he'd have been lucky enough to survive the next hour alone.

The prophet gave a defeated sigh. However, despite this form of darkness that threatened to destroy him, there was light. After all, death was only one step closer to the Great Journey. A step closer to eternal paradise. At least he could take comfort in that.

The door became more and more dented, and thus becoming weaker and weaker, until a large, whip-like appendage tore through the metal, making the sounds from outside that much louder. Multiple hands began to enter the hole and begun to either scramble furiously at the prophet or peel away the metal, making the hole even bigger.

"Is this it for the our beloved city"? The prophet mentally asked, not bothering to pay attention to the door, and continued to look out of the window. "Is this the end to our great covenant"?

As though his questions had been answered, a loud rumbling shook the city. While low at first, it began to grow more and more powerful, almost knocking the prophet to his knees. The shake was then followed by a shockwave powerful enough to break the window and send the prophet flying back.

The shards of glass had cut the elder prophet badly, yet he still found the strength to push homself back up onto his feet. What had just happened? Where these monsters responsible for this?

And then he saw it. Smoke billowing out from the middle of the city, mixed with the sound of a ships engines. It was the forerunner dreadnought! And it was taking off!

All sounds were blocked out as the deafening roar of the glorious ships engines slowly lifted the machine up into the air, and through the top of high charity, through the opening.

The elder prophet gazed. Only the high prophets could activate the forerunner ship! That meant that Truth and Mercy was aboard and they had escaped! There was still hope! Still hope for the covenant!

Not that he would be a part of it as the doors finally gave away and were ripped apart, allowing the monsters passage into his room. It no longer mattered to the prophet anyway. He was old, weak, dying. Why **should** it have mattered? At least now he knew there was hope as he stared outside his door at the army of monsters, here to deliver him to the afterlife. At least there was hope.

There would be no stopping the covenant. The humans will be eradicated from existance, high charity will eventually be clansed and the great journey shall begin!

Those were the prophets last thoughts before attacked. He tried pushing the smaller, many limbed creature off him that quickly overpowered him, but ended up feeling extroardinary pain as it tried burying itself into his chest. As it continued to burrow, the prophet could feel the strength in his arms fade, the pain numbing and his eyelids becoming heavy. Knowing this was the end, the prophet simply closed his eyes and waited for his first glimpse of paradise.


End file.
